I’m curious — is it just me, or has the spring ramp craze been extra crazed this year? At first, I thought maybe it just seemed that way because I finally started using Instagram (total old lady when it comes to embracing new forms of social media). But when I asked my mom last weekend if she and my dad had ever seen any ramps in the woods, she replied, “What is it with those things? Wai Shun (long-time family friend who owns a Japanese restaurant in Delhi, NY) asked me the same thing the other week.” She went on to say that they’d never come upon any, which surprises me considering their property consists of around 60 acres of forest-y land adjoining 500 acres of state land. She then called yesterday to tell me that she’d spoken with the woman who runs a little garden center/farm stand in the neighboring town, and when my mom asked her about ramps, she was equally unsure of their existence on her property, although thought that might be what’s been growing under her blueberry bushes. But she said that just that past weekend, some douchetastic guy that was clearly up visiting from the city (better known ’round those parts as a “citiot”) came into the store demandingly searching for ramps as well.
Hey guys! I totally meant to get this post up over the weekend, but I wound up with a super-full docket on Saturday between gallivanting around the first summer market, making you all a rockin’ pizza (with ramps, oh yeah), snapping some photos of J’s band in the afternoon, then heading down to NY to visit my parents. To all the mothers out there, and to my mom most especially — Happy Mother’s Day! Being around my mom this weekend as she proudly showed off her giant gardens she planted this past week, it’s hard to believe that only four months ago she was lying in a hospital bed recovering from a mastectomy. I love you, mom, and I am so not surprised that you’re totally kicking stupid cancer’s ass.
Up until a few weeks ago, I had never made anything with buckwheat flour. Nor could I even recall enjoying anything made of buckwheat (other than the occasional soba noodle dish). Kind of crazy, right?
I realized this when Alanna posted a recipe for Chocolate Buckwheat Banana Muffins, and I thought to myself, “I wonder what that tastes like with buckwheat flour?” I could kind of imagine it, thinking back to my teenage days of slinging pancakes on the weekends. I remember watching the strange cement-colored buckwheat batter being poured onto the griddle, and then carrying the plate of rich browny-grey pancakes over to their table, noting their nutty smell in the dozen or so steps it would take me to reach my destination. I was curious, but apparently not curious enough to actually try them.
Of all the things to experience crazy synchronicity over, celery seems one of the more unusual. And celery drinks, at that — stranger still. I mean, the universe could point me in any number of directions, like towards giving up my possessions and traveling the world, or quitting my job and devoting my life to helping the less fortunate. But apparently, at this moment, it really just wants me to put celery in my booze. Who am I to argue with that?
It began with the newest issue of Imbibe and a little piece called Put a Stalk in It, which discussed celery as a versatile ingredient in cocktails, along with three recipes. As I read it, I thought about that one time many years ago when I bought a can of celery soda purely out of curiosity, and took barely two sips before declaring it mega-nasty. My palate has come quite a long way since those days (that was also the time when I couldn’t stand gin — can you even imagine?!), so it occurred to me that it might be time for me to give celery-flavored drinks another go. Then a couple hours later, Alanna sent me an email discussing, amongst other things, celery soda. “Ooo! Weird!” I thought, and I told her all about the celery cocktails. Then the next day, as I was perusing Liqurious, two more cocktails caught my eye, both of which also happened to contain celery. And to top it all off, one of them was photographed by another one of my favorite food gals, Linda. I mean, can we all agree that this is some totally weird celery mojo?
That’s right, oatmeal!
OK you guys, here’s the deal. After giving oatmeal a serious trash-talking in this post last month, I felt kind of bad. Because, let’s be honest, is it oatmeal’s fault that I dislike it so much every time I eat it? Or is it maybe mine for not figuring out how to prepare it in a way that I will actually enjoy? As much as I hate to admit it, I think it might be the latter. And so, after acknowledging my own shortcomings, I set out on a mission. A mission to make oatmeal that I would actually enjoy. And I succeeded. Mega big time.